Of Jewels, and Sons, and Lessons
by Starlight10
Summary: Feanor learns an unexpected lesson from his son, Maedhros. Belated Birthday present for Ithilwen.


A/N: This fic was written in honor of Ithilwen's birthday.   
  
  
  
OF JEWELS, AND SONS, AND LESSONS  
  
  
"Mama, why is it that father spends so much time away?" Maitimo lifted his eyes from the pile of sticks he had been listlessly gathering, "He should've arrived by now! It is about time for the lights to mingle again!"  
  
"Do not be so impatient, Maitimo," the child heard his mother's voice coming from inside their house. He had been waiting on the doorstep for a while now, so he could command view of the road and the entrance to their home. Every time he heard approaching footsteps, he lifted his eyes in great expectation; but, to his utter dismay, he encountered different faces, some familiar and some not, but not the one he hoped most to see.  
  
"I am tired of waiting!" he protested, the edge of a frown forming quickly on his forehead, "He promised to come back early so he could show me his new work!"  
  
Nerdanel looked out from a window, sensing his son's impatience turn suddenly into frustration. "There are times when we have to wait for the things we truly want," she said gently, and then had to stifle a laugh when her son growled, "Come now, dear heart, he will be back before you know it. You will then see whether it was worth the wait. But, I assure you that, knowing your father, it will be worth it."  
  
Maitimo was not very pleased. He looked northward from whence the golden light came, realizing it was slowly waning. Surely his mother was right, as she always was, and maybe his father would be returning soon. But, the wait was awfully boring! His mother had said he should wait for the things he truly wanted. He thought that perhaps some day he might find that statement useful; but, for the moment, it did not seem so true, and certainly not pleasant.   
  
It had been a windy day, and for a while he had been quite amused by the constant dance of leaves over his head. The breeze tickled his face, and he liked it. There were rabbits, squirrels, and butterflies flying, too, and many other creatures come to play with him. Suddenly, he caught sight of a small shadow passing him by. It was a bird, and its fleeting form whirled in circles around him. His eyes followed the controlled movements of the wings, until at last the tiny bird perched on his mother's window. Suddenly, it started to sing.  
  
"Listen to it, mama!" he yelled, and swiftly rose as if eager to catch it. "Listen! How does it do it? It's so small!"  
  
Nerdanel drew to the window, holding her baby in her arms where he too would be able to listen to the sweet serenade being offered to them. "Lirulin," she whispered, at the same time catching the baby's arms so he would not scare the bird away, turned to her eldest son, "This, Maitimo, might be the most beautiful voice you will ever hear. Listen carefully and see the perfection in this bird."  
  
"Look, Canafinwe," Maitimo whispered to his brother who was all smiles and delight at the song, "Can you hear? He seems to like it a great deal, does he not, mama? Will you grow up to sing like that? I bet you will! I will take you to the wood and show you just- Aaahhh!" He rose a loud scream as he felt strong arms seize him and lift him far above the ground. He closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the dizzying feeling on his stomach.  
  
"Where are you taking your brother?" a deep voice asked.  
  
Maitimo opened his eyes at once, and a smile beamed on his ruddy face, "Atar! You've come!"  
  
"I sure have," Feanaro said, "And I would like to know about all these plans you are making, son."  
  
"I am taking Canafinwe to play out in the woods so he can learn how to sing like all the birds and-"  
  
"Not so fast, son! Take some time to breathe if you would," Feanaro twitched his mouth into a slight grin, but Nerdanel noticed how hard it had been for him to indulge in the gesture. She looked at him closely, trying to read the lines of his face and the tightness of his arms. His eyes smouldered as ever, but the expression in them was not eagerness, it was something else.  
  
"We have been waiting for you for a long while, Feanaro," she smiled, trying to ease his discomfort.  
  
"Today's work was harder than expected," he briefly remarked to his wife, and then turned to his son, "And you, Nelyafinwe, should be inside finishing the work I left for you."  
  
"I tried, but I was waiting for you to come home and-"  
  
"No excuses," said Feanaro, the lines on his face creasing into a frown, "I had expected to see some improvement upon my return. I realize now that you have not worked on it at all."  
  
"But I have, father!" Maitimo protested, "I have!"  
  
"Where is it, then? Did you finish separating the colors of the rocks in the box?" He stared hard into Maitimo's face, and his son lowered his eyes. "Just as I had thought." Maitimo flinched at hearing his father speak thus. His disapproval hurt more than any other thing could. "Look at me when I speak to you, Nelyafinwe!" Feanaro's eyes smouldered, and his shoulders seemed to straighten.  
  
"Surely this discussion can wait, Feanaro," Nerdanel interrupted, placing the baby back on his chair, "You have just arrived, and your food will get cold."  
  
"Nay," Feanaro waved a dismissal, "This cannot wait. Nelyafinwe must learn to do his duties. You should not commend such irresponsible behavior."  
  
"I am not-" Before she was able to craft a proper response, she saw her husband place their son back on the ground, and without another word, enter the house with long strides.  
  
  
  
Once inside, Nerdanel left little Makalaure in the care of his elder brother while she busied herself gathering the remnants of their meal, and cleaning the table. Her eyes often strayed to where her sons sat. Makalaure was laughing again as Maitimo made noises and faces to him. Her eldest son sat with his face bent on his brother's, back straight and legs outstretched. It surprised her to see how composed he looked, how little affected by the earlier argument, how much his manner and attitude resembled that of Feanaro. But, upon closer examination, she noticed his eyes were swollen and red. She sighed.   
  
"You hardly ate a bite," she heard a whisper very close to her, but did not turn. "Here, let me help you with that." Her husband grabbed the pile of dirty plates and utensils from her hands, and placed it by the table. He turned to her, and ran his hand softly over her face, stopping to lift her chin so she would look at him, "You are angered."  
  
"Aye! I am," she snapped, veiling her eyes, "As I see you, I realize you had a rough and unpleasant day, but your son is not to understand that."  
  
"You are right at that," he said, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, "You have always been able to see through me like no other person has ever done." She relaxed into his embrace, running her hands over his shoulders, where she was able to feel the tension on the hardened muscles.   
  
"What happened?" the earlier reproach in her voice was transformed into concern.  
  
"We did not receive the jewels we were expecting. Fuinor agreed to bring the stones today," he breathed deep, and his face reddened. "There were pearls from Alqualonde, and emeralds, rubies, sapphires. Without those gems, there is no way for us to have the jewelry ready before the festival. I cannot accept this kind of mistake, I cannot! It is careless, and irresponsible. And then I come home and realize that Nelyafinwe is doing the same thing, disobeying me, not fulfilling his duties..."   
  
"Nelyafinwe is a good boy, Feanaro; do not judge him so. He loves you more than anything else, and he wishes to please you."  
  
"You should not indulge him, Nerdanel. He needs to learn to be strong and brave, and responsible. It is our part to teach him all those things. He will grow up to be what we teach him."  
  
"He also needs to learn how to be patient and understanding, and just." She smiled as she saw her words produce the reaction that she had expected; her husband lowered his eyes and bit his lips, thinking. She waited a few moments so he could weigh in his mind what he had heard, and then continued, "And he also needs to be forgiving."  
  
"I am his father," Feanaro looked at her full in the eye.  
  
"Indeed, my love. That is why you need to set the example for him."  
  
"I wish him to learn everything I know, but there is little I can teach him if he does not apply himself to it!" his furrowed brow betrayed a fervent wish on his part.   
  
"He will learn anything you teach him; all you need to do is know how to properly teach him." She stroke her hand through his hair, "He started to separate the rocks by color, you know, but there were just too many, and soon he got bored," she grinned at him, "I must confess that I saw the box, and walked away in dismay. That dull task was more of a punishment, and less of a learning exercise! With jobs like that all you will accomplish is to make him shudder at the mere thought of jewelcraft! And, the day was so beautiful that I allowed him to go outside and play. He learned quite a few things about nature today; you might want to ask him about that later, when you take him for a walk."  
  
"A walk!" he asked, puzzled, but soon saw the wisdom behind his wife's words, and was suddenly reminded as to why he had chosen her among the other ladies from his father's city. "A walk... that is an interesting thought."  
  
"He is but a child, Feanaro," she said, "He will grow to be everything you wish. At the moment, however, he needs not your scolding, but your love."  
  
He looked at her with a grave expression, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed, and then his gaze turned to where his sons played. The stern look in his eyes melted into pride, and then, a sort of tenderness she had not seen in him before. The smile that came to his mouth was one of pure joy, and, she thought she could also see traces of wonder there.  
  
"They are ours," he said, "Sometimes it is hard to believe we can make such incredible things. They are our craft, our making. They are beautiful, Nerdanel, they are perfect, they are... ours."  
  
"That they are, love," she said, and turning his face toward hers, she kissed him.  
  
  
  
"Come now, my little one," Nerdanel said as she lifted her youngest in her arms, "Time for you to get to bed."  
  
"Please, mama," Maitimo looked at her with pleading eyes, "Do not take him just yet. He wants to know more about the bird we saw today, do you not, Cano?" The baby grinned, but rubbed his small hand to his eyes and yawned.  
  
"I am sure you will tell him all about that, sweetling," Nerdanel said, and leaned to kiss him, "But tomorrow. This baby is past his time for sleep."  
  
"Then I shall go to sleep, too."  
  
Nerdanel noticed how he avoided to look at her straight to the face, and she found it intriguing how he was not begging her to let him stay awake for just a while longer. After their meal he had taken his brother, and had sat in the same place until this moment; there had been no running around, no shouting or screaming, no laughter. He wished not to meet his father's eye. This troubled Nerdanel, but she knew her son's kind disposition; therefore, she tried to prepare him for the encounter.  
  
"Not so soon, my son." She was somewhat amused by his anxious stare, "It is a bit early for you. Besides, you will have a special treat before you go to bed."  
  
"Will I?" he asked eagerly, "What is it?"  
  
"Your father shall tell you in a moment." With that, she left to put the baby to sleep, leaving behind a very distressed Maitimo.  
  
"Nelyafinwe?" the boy jumped at the deep sounds of his father's voice, and turned to meet his piercing gaze with a quivering lip and fidgeting fingers.  
  
"Y- Yes, Sir?"  
  
Feanaro found his address quite amusing, but he was perturbed when he thought he saw fear reflected in the tiny dark eyes of his son. He knelt by him without saying a word, and without taking his stare from those blots of dark glow in his son's face. At last, he smiled; Maitimo could not have braved that piercing stare for longer. "Will you be busy before you go to bed?" the boy looked at him, baffled. "I mean, do you have any plans or engagements ere you sleep?"  
  
"No, Sir."  
  
"Good," and he rose, the shadow of his tall person falling over the boy, "Because, I have some place I wish to take you." Again the baffled look. "First, you must put this on. It is quite cold outside and I would not want you to fall ill." He grabbed a thick blanket and wrapped it around Maitimo's shoulders.   
  
"Will it be all right with mother?" was all he managed to ask; he liked the feeling of his father's protective arms over him.  
  
"Everything has been cleared with her," Feanaro said, and winked, "upon one or two conditions."  
  
"Conditions?"  
  
"Indeed. You must promise to go to bed earlier tomorrow, so you will recover all the sleep you will be losing today." He saw Maitimo frown. "And you must promise to eat those green leaves she always wants to feed you with- Not to worry!" he yelled, as his son growled, "After tonight, you will not mind to eat any of that. You will like this, I promise." He took his son's trembling hand tightly in his, and so they set out into the silver night.  
  
  
"The place where I am taking you, Nelyafinwe, is very special to me," Feanaro said as he led his son through the white streets of Tirion, "I have been coming here since I was old enough to stray away by myself."  
  
"Did grandfather not take you?"  
  
"He did, as soon as he realized I liked to come. I got lost once, you know, and he could not find me. He looked all over Tirion for me, and still he could not find me. I was there, of course. He was angered at first," He paused, allowing some time for his son to make a mental picture of the situation, "The most angered I had seen him at the time. But, as soon as he realized I had slipped away because I wanted to learn about the craft, his craft, he decided it was time to teach me. And so he did."  
  
"Were you happy then?"  
  
"Those were the happiest years of my life," he felt Maitimo slightly release his hold on his hand, "Until your mother came along, and then you, and then little Canafinwe..."  
  
Maitimo smiled broadly. "Did you learn smithcraft from your father?"  
  
"I did, but I perfected it with grandfather Mahtan. He was the best craftsman. You can learn too, if you wish. There are many of us who would be delighted to teach you," Feanaro raised his eyebrow, and looked down on his son. His eyes were distant, and his lips pursed; he felt the sweaty little hand tighten the hold on his own. "I should not have said those things earlier," the child lowered his eyes at Feanaro's words, "I realize that in my eagerness to teach you I tried to- Oh! Here we are!"  
  
Before them, a dark vault opened. It was big and black, and the tight jaws that formed the opening were blacker still, and as menacing as the heats of the forge in Feanaro's shop.Maitimo clung to his father's tunic.  
  
"Do you know where we are?" Feanaro asked.  
  
"It looks to be... a cave."  
  
"Indeed!" Feanaro proclaimed exultingly, "This is the first mine I ever entered. It was here that I first felt the desire to craft things of my own making. This place is... it leaves me without words to describe it." Once he had overcome the feeling of wonder, of exquisite fulfillment, of purpose, again he looked down on his son. Maitimo's eyes were fixed on the opening, and only his hair moved in the breeze. He seemed hesitant. "Well? What do you think? It looks... rather menacing, does it not? We do not have to go inside if you do not wish to."  
  
"No!" Maitimo yelled, holding his father's arm tightly, "If you come with me, I will go anywhere you wish."  
  
Feanaro flinched as though he had been stabbed. Something about his son's trustful tone, the way he clung to him, reminded him that he was, indeed, a father. He knelt beside Maitimo, but still he had to look down to find his eyes. "My son, we do not have to go where I want. Today, we are doing what you wish."  
  
"I wish to learn, father. I wish to learn how to be like you!" Maitimo lowered his gaze, "I am sorry for what I did today. I will be more mindful of you from now on."  
  
Feanaro felt a sudden sense of pride surge through him; he recognized it as it filled every fiber of his being. He had fathered this boy who stood now, in front of him, placing all his trust in him, trying to please him, asking for his forgiveness. The boy had done what the adult could not. This child, this wonderful child, his son, could teach him lessons he had not expected he would ever need to learn. And there he was, trying to change him, to mould him into something he was not, into something less beautiful than his true self. It shamed him."Nelyafinwe," he began, and his voice faltered, "It is I who needs to learn. Do not ever let me forget who you are. Do not ever let me sway you to where I want you to go."  
  
"But, I want to go where you go. I want to be like you."  
  
Feanaro smiled, and placed his strong hands over his son's shoulders, "But first, I want you to learn how to be like you are. Will you do this?"  
  
Maitimo's face lightened, and he smiled, and then he laughed, and Feanaro embraced his son, holding his little arms close to him, the cold nose touching his face. This was his son, his own little marvel.  
  
"Look at that, father!" the boy pointed toward the cave , "What is that flicker?"  
  
"Ah! You have seen it. This is a silver mine. It is full of glittering beams like those if one knows where to look."  
  
"Is it?" Maitimo's eyes widened. "Would you... take me there?"  
  
Feanaro laughed and, rising, grabbed his eldest son's hand. "Only if you promise to tell me about your day. Mother says you learned quite a few interesting things out there."  
  
"I sure did, and I am willing to tell you."   
  
Brushing their hair from their faces, and breathing deep, they left following the faint light, and hand in hand they disappeared into the cave's thick night.  
  
  
Notes:  
  
Nelyafinwe: Maedhros' father-name  
Maitimo: Maedhros' mother-name  
  
Canafinwe: Maglor's father-name.   
Cano: short quenya form for Canafinwe 


End file.
